


Behind Closed Doors

by confused_carmine



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Campaign: Graduation (The Adventure Zone), Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Nightmares, No Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confused_carmine/pseuds/confused_carmine
Summary: A closed closet door just happened to be in Fitzroy's line of sight when he fell into his half-sleep half-meditation trance of unconsciousness. Fitzroy didn't think much would really happen—it's simply a door. No weird dreams could stem from simply a closet door...Right?Oh, how wrong he was.Or:Fitzroy has a nightmare reflecting on how he feels inside.
Relationships: Master Firbolg & Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> i decided to write some fitz and bud hurt/comfort. also im a slut for fitz's and firbolg's friendship shdjd.  
> comments are very appreciated!!

Fitzroy's eyes focused on the door, his full attention was transfixed on it. Just a normal door, nothing unordinary about it. It wasn't a bad door, it was quite a pretty door. It was made of finely polished wood and the handle was detailed metal.

It took Fitzroy a moment to begin to register that the knob of that door was turning. When it slowly popped open, an almost skeletal hand came through the crack. And then more and more hands came out, reaching at Fitzroy. Arms extended from the door to him, stretching grotesquely long, so much so that Fitzroy was sure that there were no bones in the black spectral limbs.

Once those hands grabbed him, they were so cold, so cold that it had burned at first. Freezing, skinny, disgustingly long and thin fingers dug into Fitzroy's skin deep and hard enough to make marks. 

Whispers of his name filled his ears. Somehow, he _felt_ the voices, it was like a buzzing in his head as vivid as a loud ringing in his ears. The more panicked Fitzroy became, the tighter the hands, as if they were trying to keep him there, a prisoner to his own bed. 

The breath was punched out of Fitzroy's lungs when he felt one of the spectral hands wrap around his neck so tightly that he felt as though his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.

Finally, that was enough to scare Fitzroy out of his unconscious state, and onto the ground. The fall had him even more awake and anxious than before, somehow. 

Fitzroy felt impossibly sick, and his chest had lost the ability to hold the air he breathed. There was sweat on Fitzroy's brow, and his hands were shaking worse than he'd ever seen or registered before.

A hellish mix of curiosity and a desperation for security plagued Fitzroy's mind enough to make him look at the closet door. It was closed, left untocuhed as it had been before Fitzroy fell into his sleeping state. Still, there was an uncomfortable energy in this room, it was almost suffocating, and Fitzroy needed to get out.

Fitzroy stood with stuttering knees and shaking legs and walked carefully to the kitchenette, trying to even his ragged breaths.

Golden moonlight seeped into the kitchenette through the window, and that was enough light provided for Fitzroy to get a glass of water. 

Just as the water was building to the middle of the cup, Fitzroy got impatient and chugged down the barely filled cup. It didn't calm him, so he kept drinking water until he felt even more sick than before.

And that was then a deep and low grumble came from the Firbolg. "Fitzroy..?"

That surprised Fitzroy to the point of dropping the glass in the sink. He spun around and saw the firbolg, half-awake on the floor. Fitzroy must have looked more panickef than he meant to, because the firbolg frowned a little. "Has something...happened?"

Fitzroy let out a shuddery sigh. "Uhm...I'll...I'll be fine. I just had a bizarre dream." Fitzroy sucked in a deep breath, still feeling uneasy. 

"What happened to your face?" The firbolg asked, beginning to stand from his place on the ground.

"What do you mean?" Fitzroy touched at his face, feeling for anything different.

"You have...scratches, and bruises," The firbolg stepped closer to the smaller male until he was close enough to better inspect Fitzroy's face. It was then he realized these bruises were all over Fitzroy's arms too. Fitzroy followed the firbolg's gaze, surprised at what he saw. Red droplets of blood dotted the shallow scratches by the splotches of purple and blue and green. The bruises were nearly the size of the tab of Fitzroy's fingers, which only alarmed him further, but he pretended to be calm nonetheless. 

The firbolg frowned at Fitzroy. "What was this...bizarre dream?" He asked, confused still as to how Fitzroy had managed go get hurt like this in his sleep.

"It's nothing worth talking about, really...it was just kind of...hands reaching out from my closet door and grabbing me and stuff," Fitzroy tried to keep his voice even and calm as he said that.

The firbolg, with a wave of his hand, healed Fitzroy. A flesh-colored mossy material grew out from Fitzroy's skin and over the harm done to him, and crumbled away as dry and grey to reveal what looked like weeks and weeks of healing.

Fitzroy watched, and the ghost of a smile bloomed onto his face. "Thank you, firbolg friend." Fitzroy felt even a little better now that he wasn't alone.


End file.
